


Sliding Into Your DMs Like

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Monty doesn't really think that just because Nathan Miller is in the same geographic location he is, they're going to see each other. Even when Clarke steals his phone to ask if they can hang out, he doesn't really think anything's going to happen. That's definitely not what actors do when they're in random cities. There's no way.





	Sliding Into Your DMs Like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



> for jenn's superstar life, obv

**just another guy named nathan miller** @n8miller8  
sup boston 

*

Monty finds out Nathan Miller is in his city when he checks his phone after class and has about ten billion twitter notifications, most of which are roughly equivalent to _@montygreener WHERE R U_. At least twenty are from Jasper, so Monty just scrolls through them until he gets to the root of the whole thing.

Which is, of course, the notification that Miller tweeted that he's in Boston.

"Holy shit," Monty breathes.

His legs actually stop working, and it takes Clarke a second to notice, but then she turns back, frowning. "What?"

Monty opens Twitter to stare, looking at the line of replies, people asking where Miller is and if they can meet up, telling him to visit other cities and countries soon.

It feels silly, that his heart is beating wildly, that he cares at all. Miller's not even _that_ famous; he's a moderately successful actor on a moderately successful TV show. It's not like Chris Evans is in town or something. And _in town_ really shouldn't mean anything either. Monty's odds of running into Nathan Miller aren't that much higher when they're both in the same physical location; it's still never going to happen.

Clarke is still looking at him, though, so he gives her his phone, still open to the tweet. "Nathan Miller's in Boston."

"Wow." She scans through the replies, just as he did, and says, "Are you in here?"

"Where?"

"Did you tell him to call you?"

"Of course not. Why would I tell him to call me?"

"Because he's actually interacting with people who want to meet up." She clicks something, and he assumes she's finding one of the exchanges to show him, but instead she's typing, already moving out of the way when he makes a grab for the phone, anticipating the attempt. "Why not at least ask?"

"Ask what, exactly? For him to call me?"

She hands the phone back, and he sees he's tweeted: _If there's a meetup, I want in!_ Which is, at least, a fairly non-embarrassing way to put that. If Jasper had gotten his phone, it would say _I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABY_ or something.

"Thanks," he says, dry. "I definitely couldn't have done that myself."

"You could have, but you wouldn't. What's the worst thing that's going to happen? He ignores you?"

"I don't know, him noticing me might actually be worse. What do you say to the guy who made you realize you were bisexual?"

"I'd tell him he fucked me over so badly I thought I could never date men again, but that's pretty specific to my coming out. It's not a big deal," she adds. "It looks like he might just be going to a bar or something, you don't want to miss out on that if it happens."

He's not convinced. "I might want to miss out."

"Jasper's calling you," she says, and hands him the phone in lieu of further argument.

He flips her off as he takes it. "Hey."

"Are you going to marry Nate Miller? Do I have to drive down to be a witness?"

"How did you even get to me marrying Nate Miller from this point? It's not like we're in Vegas together."

"Who knows how long he's around? Have you never seen a romantic comedy? These things can move fast. You want to lock it down. One week to go from friendly misunderstanding to true love, and I'll be there in time to be the best man in your shotgun wedding."

"You know you can just post your fanfic directly to the internet, right? You don't need to tell me what happens first."

"I can't believe you actually replied to him."

"Understandable, because I didn't." He shoots Clarke a glare. "Clarke did it for me."

"Tell her I love her. But I'm also still afraid of her. Based on your pictures she's, like, genuinely terrifying?"

"I don't photograph well!" Clarke protests. "I don't know how to smile."

"You're also kind of terrifying."

"Yeah, but not like that. Nate Miller wants you to check your DMs, by the way."

He nearly drops his phone, but somehow doesn't. "Already?"

"Life moves pretty fast."

"He's sliding into your DMs!" Jasper says. "It's all finally happening. I should definitely drive down."

"One, you live in Georgia, you'd be driving up. Two, no you shouldn't, it will take a billion hours. Three--" He lets out a breath. "I'm hanging up on you, apparently I need to check my DMs."

"If you get married without me as your best man, I will never forgive you. Clarke can come too," he adds, magnanimous. "Since she's apparently the one who enabled--"

"Bye, Jasper," he says, pointed, and disconnects the call.

He has the notification that Miller replied to his tweet, and then the message that he has, somehow, and _actual message_ from _actual Nathan Miller_.

"I don't even know if I can look at it," he says.

"I would," says Clarke, not looking up from her own phone. "But if I look at it, I'm going to reply, and you don't want that."

"You're right, I don't, and I hate you."

"If you guys get married, you better get me that other guy's number The one with the curly hair who plays the TA. Whatever his name is."

"Bellamy Blake," Monty says, absent. "I'm opening it."

"Good."

He lets out a breath and then does, and there's the message, simple and straightforward: _grabbing dinner here at seven, you're welcome to come_ , followed by an address. It's in the city, of course, so he'd have to take the red line in, but that's not _hard_.

Mostly, it's surreal. These things aren't supposed to actually happen. 

"Do you think he's a serial killer?"

Clarke blinks at him. "What?"

"Who just meets up with their fans? That they've never met? Who could be serial killers? No one would do that, except another serial killer."

"I'm not sure you really know how serial killers work. Where is it?"

"Somewhere in Boston. Downtown."

"That doesn't sound like the kind of place he'd murder you. Also, he replied to some other people, so it's not just you. It'll be a weird party."

"A weird _murder_ party. And if I'm going, you are too."

Clarke frowns. "I've only seen about three episodes of that show, and he wasn't even in one of them."

"You sent the message, you have to come."

"I'm going to tell him I'm just there for moral support because you're his biggest fan."

"If he looked through my twitter it's already a disaster," he admits. He wouldn't say _Nathan Miller thirst_ is his _entire_ brand, but to the extent that he is twitter famous for anything, he's twitter famous for live-tweeting new episodes of _Intro to Paranormal Studies_ and being exaggeratedly into Miller. "We can just lean into the inherent awkwardness of this."

"He's the one doing it," Clarke points out, not unreasonably. "He didn't have to say anything. It would have been really easy for him to not set this up. So he should be prepared for whatever's coming."

"I guess." He glances at her. "You're coming, right?"

"Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I don't want to miss it." She stows her phone. "But I have to go home and get changed first. Meet you at Davis in like forty minutes."

"Yeah, sounds good."

Once he's alone, he looks back at the message from Miller, writes: _Cool, my friend and I will be there_ , and then somehow makes himself send it.

Then he puts his phone away and tries, very hard, not to think about it.

*

"I can't believe we're doing this."

Nate glances at Bellamy, who's glaring at his beer like it personally wronged him. Based how often Nate's seen him make that face, he assumes that Bellamy gets in pretty regular fights with inanimate objects, and apparently loses. "I never said you had to come. I specifically said you _didn't_ have to come. I was like, I'm doing this on my own, and you were like, I'm coming."

He glares harder. "You're meeting fans, you shouldn't do that alone."

"We're at a restaurant. There are people everywhere. Unless I go home with the guy, I'm not going to be alone."

It's a bad tactic to take; Bellamy narrows his eyes, distracted from his sulk by the possibility of Miller making even worse life choices than he already has. "Is that a possibility?" he asks. "You going home with the guy?"

"It's just the only way I'd be alone with him."

"And you brought it up because--"

"Because you're an overprotective asshole."

"Wow, that backfired. Now I'm just worried you want to hook up with a random fan."

"Not until I see how the meal goes."

He doesn't actually have any intention of hooking up with Monty Green, but he's kind of glad that of the people who wanted to meet up with him, Monty is the only one who actually said he could make it. Nate had honestly mostly been curious to see if he got any actual bites, if anyone who was on twitter and said they wanted to meet him actually _did_ want to meet him, and he had gotten several responses that were, essentially, _oops I didn't think you meant it_.

But Monty Green is coming, and Nate's a little curious about him. He was the only guy to respond, which makes sense with what Nate knows of their demographic, and a quick check of his twitter showed him to be a pretty average guy. According to his profile, he's a bisexual grad student at Tufts, and most of his tweets are about classes or work or snarky political retweets.

He's not saying he's going to go home with the guy, not even a little. But he's much closer to Nate's type than most of the fans he meets.

So, yeah. Curious. That's the word for it.

Bellamy finishes his beer. "Do we need to come up with a secret signal if you want to hook up? Is there a code word we're using?"

"Does _fuck off, Bellamy_ not work?"

"It's a little ambiguous. You tell me that for all kinds of reasons, I won't know why I'm fucking off."

"You'll figure it out." He looks down at his phone. "Fuck, what if he doesn't show up? I'm going to be really embarrassed if I get stood up by all my fans. I'd have to tweet that you were here, that would get them to come out."

Bellamy rolls his eyes, but there's a little color on his neck too. He's not the lead of the show, but he's a much more integral character than Miller is, and, accordingly, has a much larger fanbase than Miller does. Which is probably why he hasn't posted about how he's in Boston on twitter. Really, he tries to avoid posting on twitter as much as he possibly can.

"I'm not date enough for you?" he asks, mild.

Nate slings his arm around Bellamy's shoulders and squeezes. "Yeah, you know you're all I need."

The door opens and a white girl comes in, followed by an Asian guy who _might_ be Monty Green. His profile picture was small and a little blurry, and the hairstyle is different, so it's hard to tell, but--it's possible. He did say he was bringing a friend.

They're both looking around, and the girl spots Miller first, freezing at the sight of him. She recovers quickly, elbowing the guy, and he looks over too, his own eyes widening in shock.

Not to be shallow or anything, but he's really cute.

"Is that him?" Bellamy asks, low.

"No idea." He raises his hand to wave them over, and he sees the girl give the guy a small push before he gets moving. So they're fans either way. They didn't get totally stood up. "Let's find out."

"I hate you," Bellamy mutters, but he manages a smile for the two strangers. "Hi."

"Are you Monty Green?" Nate adds. "Or am I just socializing with total strangers?”

"I am Monty Green, so only, like, ninety-five percent strangers? Maybe? How much does meeting someone on twitter count as knowing someone?"

"Seventy-five percent. I figured if you were bringing a friend, I could too. This is Bellamy."

Bellamy stands and offers his hand to Monty and the girl, and they both shake. “Nice to meet you both. Monty and—“

“Clarke,” says the girl. “Moral support.”

“Same. Miller’s lost without me.”

“I’m lost _with_ you, you have the worst sense of direction in the world. Have a seat,” he tells them. “Drinks? We’re buying.”

Monty semi-collapses into the chair across from Nate. “Really?”

“Which part?”

“Is this normal for you? Put out the call on twitter, see who shows up, and buy them a meal?”

“All I said was that I was in town. You were the one who asked to crash my dinner.”

“That was actually me,” says Clarke, and Nate tries not to let his disappointment show. She’s cute, but really not his type. “Monty needed a hand.”

“Maybe I just don’t like forcing myself into other people’s plans,” Monty shoots back, and Clarke shrugs. 

“He invited us, you’re good.” She turns her attention to Bellamy with unsubtle deliberateness. “So, you’re the TA, right? I’ve seen like three episodes of this show.”

Bellamy looks amused in spite of himself. “I am.”

“Is the big reveal at the end going to be that you’re the big bad and that’s why your lesson plans always correspond exactly to what the main character is fighting that week?”

“No spoilers,” says Bellamy, and Miller looks back at Monty. The pairing off is obvious, but he doesn’t mind. This is what he would have picked too.

“So, you’re a grad student?”

Monty looks panicked. “I am?”

“According to your twitter profile, yeah.”

If anything, the panic intensifies. “You looked at my twitter profile?”

“I was curious.”

Nate’s not an expert or anything, but he thinks Monty is reviewing his recent twitter activity, probably trying to figure out if there’s anything weird or incriminating on there. Which means there was something Nate could have found. That’s good to know.

“I am a grad student,” he says, once he’s done with whatever mental arithmetic he was working on.

“Cool. What are you studying?”

“Uh, education. STEM. Clarke’s in art, that’s how we know each other."

"What do you want to teach?"

"Middle school science."

"Jesus, why?"

"Because middle school sucked out loud for me. I know a lot of middle school kids are assholes, but part of that is because they don't have the support they need. I want to try to make it better."

It's not the answer Nate was expecting, and he smiles. "That's really cool."

"Yeah, we'll see how I feel after I actually start teaching." He wets his lips, looking nervous, and Nate has to smile. "How did you get into acting?"

"Natural flare for drama. You don't have to stay, you know."

Monty blinks. "What?"

"I get it, you didn't think this would actually happen. If you're done--"

"I'm not done! I just--" He shakes his head. "Honestly, I don't get what you're getting out of this."

"It's fun," says Nate. "I don't always do it, but it's kind of fun to see who actually comes out."

"Yeah, I didn't expect to be the only one. Well, me and Clarke," he adds, glancing at his friend, who seems to be arguing with Bellamy about pedagogy. "But she doesn't really count."

"She's keeping Bellamy occupied, that's cool. He needs more stimulation in his life." He gives Monty a smile. "So, you're staying?"

Monty returns it, stronger, and sure, and that's kind of awesome. "Definitely."

"Cool. Let's get a drink."

*

Hanging out with Nathan Miller-- _Nathan Miller_!!--doesn't exactly get less weird, but it gets to be a different kind of weird. Miller--or, rather, Nate--is smart and sarcastic and easy to talk to, and he has this way of smiling that makes Monty feel like he's the only person in the entire world, and if he _wasn't_ a celebrity, Monty would assume they were flirting.

At the same time, it's not like he's _that_ much of a celebrity, right? Plenty of people haven't even realized who Nate and Bellamy even are, and part of that is that they're tucked back here, but they're also not really at the level of celebrity where they can't walk down the street without being recognized. He probably isn't as out of Monty's league as he could be.

But he's still, absolutely and without question, out of Monty's league.

Probably.

He needs a consult, but it would probably be weird if he asked Clarke to come to the bathroom and tell him if he's reading the signals right. Especially since Clarke hasn't even been paying attention to him and Nate because she's too busy flirting with Bellamy. And Bellamy's definitely flirting back, so--

If this is actually some sort of bizarre double date, Monty's not sure if he's going to laugh or cry. It's just too fucking weird.

"So, how did you get into the show?" Nate asks, pulling Monty from his somewhat distracted study of just how long Nate's eyelashes are.

"Oh, uh--the same way everyone does, I guess? No, wait, actually, I guess not. My best friend was dating this girl who was really into it, and he got hooked on it, and he made me watch it so I'd have someone to talk to about it. Not that I wasn't interested in it before that, but I'm really bad at watching TV shows."

"Like, it's hard for you?" Nate asks, with a smirk. "Is the remote confusing, or--"

"Shut up," says Monty, without thinking, and immediate realizes he just told Nathan Miller-- _Nathan Miller_!!--to shut up. "I mean--"

He's still smiling, though. "Pretty sure you meant that. Seriously, how are you bad at this?"

"There are just so many shows? I have trouble deciding what to watch, and then I'm so overwhelmed by choices I just don't watch anything at all, or I rewatch something I've already seen because I know what I'm getting. I've seen _Brooklyn 99_ so many times I feel like I've lived it."

Nate laughs, which is another nice thing. He seems to find Monty genuinely good company, which Monty wasn't expecting.

Then again, he's also an actor. If he's faking it, Monty might not even be able to tell.

"That's one of my favorites too," says Nate. "Captain Holt's kind of a role model."

"Yeah?"

"Gay and black and kind of snarky? He's everything I want to be. Except for a cop, which is everything my dad wanted me to be."

"Really?"

Nate shrugs. "He's a cop, so yeah. Family business."

Between Nate and Bellamy, a phone starts to buzz, and they both jump. Bellamy glances down, pulls a face when he sees the display. "Shit, that's my sister. I probably need to take this." He flashes Clarke a smile. "Sorry, be right back."

"I actually want to hit the bathroom before food gets here," Nate says. "So I'll also be right back."

It's the privacy Monty was hoping for, so once Bellamy's outside and Nate's out of sight, he drops his head onto Clarke's shoulder. "Oh my god, are you flirting with Bellamy Blake?"

"As long as I've got him here, why not?" she says, pragmatic. "He was flirting with me too. And you're doing really well. This is way better than I thought it would be."

"If he wasn't a celebrity, I'd probably ask for his number," he admits.

"Ask anyway. I'm going to ask for Bellamy's."

It feels like he's spent this entire night one step behind. "You are?" 

She shrugs. "Like I said, why not? If he says no, I'm in the same shape I'm in now, but if he says yes, I do. And he's in town for another month. It sounded like Miller was going to be around too."

"Why?"

"Bellamy's little sister goes to BC and he doesn't have anything better to do than annoy her. And Miller doesn't have anything better to do than annoy him. His words." She nudges him. "So there's your pickup line. Just tell him you're something better to do than annoying Bellamy."

"You have the shittiest pickup lines," he says. "Is that what you're going to tell Bellamy?"

"No, I know my pickup lines are terrible. I'm just going to be straightforward. But I know you don't like that, so--"

"So you can just start dating Bellamy, and then I'll have an excuse to keep talking to Nate, and I'll figure out how to date him in like ten to fifteen years."

"Or you could ask for his number," Clarke reminds him, taking another sip of her drink. "Your call."

"My way sounds way less risky."

"It does," Clarke agrees. "If that's your top priority. Bellamy's coming back," she adds, and smiles as he reclaims his seat. "Is your sister okay?"

"She was worried that something terrible happened to us because we left the house."

"Didn't you tell her where you were going?"

"She thought it could be a kidnapping situation." He rolls his eyes, a fond, easy gesture. "I'm pretty sure she just wanted to talk but didn't want to say it. Classic Octavia." He smiles at Monty, which is a lot. He _is_ hot. Maybe not Nate hot, but still. "You guys having fun?"

"Oh yeah, total blast. You?"

His attention shifts back to Clarke, mouth hooking up on one side. "Yeah, we're good."

Nate comes back when they're talking about Bellamy's sister's classes, and the conversation shifts separate couples to more of a group thing. It's nice, and fun, and surprisingly easy, and Monty's still waiting for the other shoe to drop at the end of the meal.

"Are you sure we can't pay for anything?" Clarke asks, with a frown.

"You guys are grad students, we're semi-successful actors," says Bellamy. "We can cover the tab."

"Clarke's a rich grad student," Monty points out.

"I am a rich grad student."

"You can get me next time," says Bellamy, overly casual. "Tonight's on us."

It would be too perfect, right? There's no way he and Clarke _both_ get dates out of this, and Clarke clearly is, which means it's not happening for Monty. He shouldn't even try.

Nate and Bellamy pay and the four of them head outside, awkward. Clarke pulls Bellamy aside, like the weirdly competent person that she is, and Monty finds himself alone with Nate in the warm spring air.

"So, you want a picture?" Nate asks.

"What?"

"Most people like to get pictures. Proof, I guess."

It's like getting cold water dumped on him, this stark reminder of exactly what his and Nate's relationship is. Which, okay, he knew, but--it still feels shitty.

"Yeah, that would be cool. Thanks."

They take a few pictures, and Monty hopes his smile doesn't look as strained as it feels. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and he should be happy about it. Not vaguely and irrationally resentful about what’s not happening. 

The reality check helps, and his smile evens out. This is a win. Fully and unambiguously. It's an awesome night, and he's going to remember it for the rest of his life.

"You want me to get one on your phone too?" Bellamy asks, and to Monty's surprise, Nate does. Bellamy takes a few shots of them, and then Clarke gets a couple with Monty between Nate and Bellamy, which is a lot to deal with, and he makes her join them for a few more selfies, while they're at it.

They part with hugs all around at the train station, and once he and Clarke are on the red line again he asks, "Did you get his number?"

She smirks. "I didn't even have to ask. You?"

"Nah," he says. "This was good."

He can see her fighting with her own desire to argue, but apparently her better nature wins. All she says is, "Yeah, it was."

It feels like enough.

*

"I bet Clarke will give me his number for you," says Bellamy, the next afternoon.

"I know you're trying to help, but it mostly sounds like you're bragging that you got her number."

"Yeah, it was really easy. I just asked and she gave it to me. You should try it out."

"Fuck you."

"Don't you have his twitter?"

It's true, and Nate isn't even sure why he's hesitating to use it. Monty is cute and cool and seemed to like him, and he probably wants to make out. It just felt weirdly unfair, asking then. He didn't want Monty to feel pressured or anything.

"It wouldn't be weird?"

"It would be good weird. Like winning the lottery. If you weren't on TV, would you get in touch?" he adds, when Nate doesn't say anything.

"Yeah," Nate admits.

"And do you think he just likes you because you're on TV?"

That one's harder. "Not really."

"So stop being a dumbass and DM him," says Bellamy, and wanders off, probably to complain to Clarke about how stupid this whole situation is. 

Nate hates him, but he is, on every possible level, right.

As soon as he opens the message log, all doubts die. Monty has changed his display name from **Monty Python's Flying Twitter** to **I met Nate Miller and didn't die, ask me how** , taking full advantage of the increased character limit for names.

Suddenly, it's easy; all he has to do is type _how?_

The ellipses appear and then disappear again as Monty tries to figure out a response.

When it finally comes through, Nate grins. 

**I met Nate Miller and didn't die, ask me how** : Honestly, I think the story works better in person  
Like over dinner  
It's definitely a dinner story

 **just another guy named nathan miller** : yeah, sounds like it  
are you doing anything tonight?

 **I met Nate Miller and didn't die, ask me how** : I hope so

 **just another guy named nathan miller** : I've got some ideas

The next morning, Monty changes his twitter name back from Nate's bed.

"You don't want anyone to ask anymore?" 

Monty grins, leans over and kisses him. "Nah. I don't like to brag."


End file.
